


Sunflowers

by sheila_amour



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, M/M, frankly too much about flowers, i just think flowers are neat, this isn't even a flower shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheila_amour/pseuds/sheila_amour
Summary: Someone has been leaving flowers in Illya's apartment. Sunflowers, specifically. Which is... odd. But actually rather nice.





	Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had like over 30,000 words worth of napollya fic sitting in my google drive since circa 2016 so I figured why not finally finish and post them
> 
> This was supposed to be like a 500 word drabble but, as you will see often with me, it got really out of hand.

Someone has been leaving sunflowers in Illya’s apartment.

The first time he panics, dumping the vase into the sink, and drowns the flowers in water. Then he picks through them one by one, looking for a bug or a wire. He finds nothing.

This puts him on edge and he searches his apartment top to bottom looking for anything suspicious. Again, there is nothing for him to find. He looks through the flowers again. The yellow petals taunt him, smiling up at him like they hold some sort of secret. He should be able to figure this out. Someone must be doing this to scare him. But who the fuck would leave sunflowers in his apartment?

He crushes them all under his feet and shoves them into a garbage bag, which he hauls all the way down three flights of stairs and deposits into the dumpster in the alleyway next to his building. He wipes the grime off his hands and frowns. The flowers are in the bin, but nothing is resolved. He doesn't know where those flowers came from or what they're meant for. 

Later that evening he thinks that the only three people who know where he lives are Waverly, Gaby, and Napoleon. He does not have any other friends and he does not give out his address. At first, he thinks its THRUSH, but a second sweep through the apartment reveals nothing again, and he can't imagine THRUSH going through this much effort to get to him; their messages usually lack in such creativity and subtlety. An armed man hiding behind his bedroom door would be a more likely move from them. 

He then thinks of the KGB, wonders if the sunflowers are intended to be some sort of message from Oleg. He racks his brain to remember if sunflowers have some sort of significance in Russia or a hidden meaning in the KGB but comes up blank. There was also no note in the flowers, nothing hidden away for him to find, just the flowers. It could not be KGB.

Waverly would not send him flowers; even when he nearly died on a mission in Singapore the man had only given him a ‘get well soon’ card with handwriting inside that looked remarkably similar to his secretary’s. Napoleon would not give him flowers. It was silly to entertain the idea of him sneaking around putting flowers into his apartment, especially because Napoleon vows to never come to the place as the elevator doesn't work and he can't be strained to walk three flights of stairs on his day off. Every time they've met outside of work it's been at Napoleon’s place.

The third and final option was Gaby. This one, frankly, made the most amount of sense to Illya. Gaby had been over at his place a few times, usually to drag him over to Napoleon's for a drink because she's convinced he doesn't go out enough. She's never liked his apartment, she calls it ‘depressing’ and chides him for not painting the walls or putting up more furniture. It would be very much like Gaby to give him something to “brighten up the place”. She probably gave up on him and decided to take matters into her own hands. Yes, it had to be Gaby.

He smiles a little bit at this revelation, but then he feels a pang of guilt when he remembers the garbage bag in the dumpster where the sunflowers will soon start to rot. He will have to buy something for Little Chop Shop Girl to make up for it.

\---

The next day at work he makes sure to give Gaby a smile and polite nod, letting her know that he was thankful for the flowers. She cocked her head at him, looking a little confused, but she smiled back. 

\---

A week later and Illya walks into his apartment to find another vase of sunflowers on his coffee table. He decides to go through them one by one again just in case, but more delicately than the last time. After finding nothing he puts them back as carefully as he can. The arrangement doesn't look as nice as it did before, but it looks good enough to Illya. He puts them back on the coffee table. He might as well keep them if Gaby had gone through all this trouble.

\---

He doesn't go through the vase next week. He lets them sit untouched on the coffee table next to his chess set. Sometimes, in the middle of the game, he’ll look up at them and smile. They may not be much, he thinks, but they do brighten the room up, at least a little bit.

\---

The week after that they're on another mission and Illya comes home to wilted sunflowers. He looks at them with a frown before he throws them away. It's silly, he knows it wouldn't be possible for Gaby to replace them while she's with him on a mission, but there's something about the presence of the flowers he misses. 

The next day he grins ear to ear as he comes home from the grocery store to fresh sunflowers on the coffee table.

\---

A week passes and then another and now the sunflowers are beginning to feel like a permanent presence in the apartment. Illya has become more taken to them than he cares to admit; he checks them each morning, frowning whenever he sees a petal or two begin to brown. They've become a small comfort to him, something warm in the grey dullness of his New York apartment. He thinks many times about what he should get Gaby to thank her for them, but he still can't decide on what. Besides, Gaby has never brought up the flowers. Maybe she doesn’t want him to make a big deal out of anything. 

\---

This week they're on a mission of sorts that leads them, ironically enough, to a flower stand. Waverly is convinced that Agent Thompson is conspiring with a small group of right-wing radicals based in New York, close to the UNCLE base. They're a small enough group that UNCLE usually ignores them, shoveling them off onto local police to deal with, but lately they've been reported to be planning some kind of attack on UNCLE, with key points of information on the base that couldn't have been obtained anywhere else other than an inside source.

The trio spent yesterday going through video footage of Agent Thompson talking to someone near a small corner flower stand. Each Monday, Thursday, and Saturday for the last two weeks they've met in the same spot between the stand and a German deli. The man is unknown, but he's tall with red hair and Illya’s confident he could pick him out in a crowd. 

Which is lucky for him, because he and Solo are the ones sent to the little stand to observe. The stand is near Napoleon’s apartment, and he is, therefore, the least likely to seem suspicious wandering around that part of town. Illya is with him in case things get ugly. 

Illya relishes the time he gets to spend with Solo when they're not being shot at or running for their lives. He likes the warm feeling he gets when Napoleon smiles him, he even likes how he sometimes can push his buttons. Wandering around town with Napoleon at his side he gets the quick thought that if they were together they could do this all the time. He shuts that idea out as soon as it comes. It's better not to think such things. 

They wait for a while but nothing seems to be happening so they step into the deli to get something to snack on. Napoleon insists on paying for the both of them, even with Illya’s grumblings.

“My treat, Peril,” he'd said, giving him a wink.

The windows of the deli lend a perfect view of the stand and its surroundings so it’s easy for Illya to keep tabs on the passersby while he eats a bowl of soup and a rather tasty roll. Napoleon sits across from him, watching and sipping on a cup of coffee. Their knees brush underneath the table. For a mission it’s actually pretty relaxing, Illya thinks. The calm doesn’t last long, unfortunately. 

After they stepping back outside, Illya catches sight of red hair. He nudges Napoleon's side.

“Red hair, to the left.”

Napoleon nods, his eyes following Illya’s gaze to catch sight of the man. He's standing a little more than three feet away from the flower stand, easily within earshot.

“You know Illya,” Napoleon says suddenly to Illya, “I want to get flowers for Gaby.”

Illya catches onto his wavelength and nods.

“I think she will like that, yes”

They go up to the flower cart, closer to the men, and look around the selection as they eavesdrop. A little red banner on the stand reads ‘Fiori’ and an older Italian woman is sitting in the shade next to buckets full of fresh flowers, waving away the heat with a delicate white fan.

“Give me a bouquet of those white calla lilies, won't you Signora Arturo?” Napoleon says after a while, stepping up to the counter. He turns to Illya and smiles, “They're my favorite. Gaby ought to like them, no?”

“They are a good pick, Cowboy.” 

“Very good indeed,” the Italian woman agrees standing up. She examines the pot of delicate white flowers, picking out the finest ones. She grabs orange paper at Napoleon’s request and wraps them in it, using a white ribbon to cinch the bouquet. She hands them to Napoleon, who fishes for change in his pocket.

“And would you like to pick up your weekly order of sunflowers today, Mr. Solo?” she asks and Illya and Napoleon both freeze.

Illya turns to Napoleon, his eyes wide. 

Napoleon clears his throat and turns back to the signora. “No, no grazie. I’ll come for them on Thursday, alright?”

The woman nods and sits back in her folding chair, taking her fan out once again. Illya is still in shock, can't take his eyes off of Napoleon, who in turn is doing his very best not to look at him.

\--- 

It's the gun that saves Illya in the end. They spent five awkward minutes together, saying nothing to each other. Illya never thought he would say it, but five minutes without Napoleon saying something, anything at all, was excruciating. 

So when the bullet flies over Napoleon's head and he yells, “What the fuck?!” it feels like some sort of strange relief.

They both immediately duck for cover and the calla lilies end up splayed all over the street.

“I didn’t even think we were that obvious,” Napoleon complains, loading his own gun as he hunches behind a table outside the deli. “It’s that damn jacket of yours. If you didn’t wear that every day he might not have recognized us.” And _that’s_ the Napoleon Illya knows and loves. 

“If he runs can we kill him? These shoes are brand new,” he says turning to Illya. Illya rolls his eyes at him.

“Maybe,” he says. Illya may not give a damn about Napoleon’s shoes but he doesn’t find another high-speed chase through New York’s back alleyways any more appealing.

And so it really is just their luck that Thompson and the redheaded man start sprinting almost instantly, giving Illya and Napoleon only a fraction of a section to lock eyes with each other before they both start running after them.

\---

Getting Thompson was a bitch. Not only did the chase involve New York’s back alleyways but because nothing is fair in this world it extended to the rooftops of New York City as well. However, only twenty-five minutes and one sprained ankle later Napoleon and Illya managed to get both the redheaded man, whose name was Dawson, and Thompson as well. They handed them over to UNCLE as quickly as they could, leaving them to deal with the rest of the conspiracy. 

Illya goes back home as soon as it is over to get some ice on his ankle that he can feel starting to swell. When he opens the door and warm yellow flowers catch his eye he almost forgets all about the ankle. Thanks to the ankle and the chase he had nearly forgotten that Napoleon Solo was the one leaving flowers in his apartment. Despite the pain and fatigue of the day Illya cannot help but break out into a large grin.

Napoleon Solo. How about that?

\---

Napoleon hasn’t spoken to him in three days. He’s avoiding him at the office; he always seems to be suspiciously ‘out’ when Illya comes in. It has Illya actually hoping for another mission just so Napoleon will speak to him again.

Unfortunately for him, the megalomaniacs of the world seem to be laying low at the moment and nothing of interest for UNCLE has yet to come up. This leaves Illya with nothing to do except go home to drink vodka and play chess alone in his apartment. On the fifth day of this Illya starts to realize that Gaby is right and maybe his life is a little bit sad. The wilting sunflowers next to him don’t help with the gloom at all.

Or maybe, actually, they do. 

After staring at the flowers for awhile Illya decides it’s about time he does something. He shoves the chess game aside and heads back to downtown New York City.

\---

He gets to the office early the next morning when he knows Napoleon won’t be in. He knows he’s got an hour to kill before he catches sight of either him or Gaby. He starts on some old mission paperwork he’s been meaning to fill out and considers updating some of the files downstairs in the archives.

He doesn’t get to though because before he can stand up Napoleon walks through the door. The grin on his face when he sees the vase of calla lilies on his desk is priceless.


End file.
